Deadly Treasures

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Deadly Treasures Page 3

by Vivian Conroy


  ‘My father doesn’t find my work interesting, or worthwhile. He wants me to give it up and come back home. Has he sent you to tell me that?’

  Alkmene pulled back her shoulders. ‘You should know better than to believe I would be sent on such a mission.’

  A smile jerked up the corners of his mouth. ‘Or any mission at all. Alkmene only does what Alkmene wants, right?’ That irked her a little, but it was true.

  Duncan’s smile disappeared as quickly as it had come, and he said, ‘I’m not sure what you want here, Alkmene, but I’m afraid I can’t be your host and show you around. I have to go with these gentlemen to the police station.’

  ‘How come? Has something happened?’

  Duncan sighed. ‘I have to give a statement in an accidental death that happened on my site.’

  One of the policemen, older than the other, with the deep-set eyes of a melancholy basset hound, said, ‘Excuse me, sir, but the death was hardly accidental. The victim’s skull was fractured with a hammer. Your hammer.’

  Alkmene winced.

  Duncan said quickly, ‘In any case I have to explain what happened. I don’t have time to show you around now. Perhaps you had better go back to the village.’ He gestured to Kramer, who was waiting nearby.

  ‘She can stay.’ The good-looking man in the suit nodded at her. ‘I can show you around. Simon Peartree, at your service.’

  Duncan said, ‘That won’t be necessary. I can do it myself.’ His tone was curt, and the look he threw Peartree almost vicious. He added, ‘I hope to be back in time for dinner. We have some catching up to do.’

  The older policeman gestured to the car that was waiting at the back of the shed, mostly out of sight, so Alkmene had not noticed it until now. She watched with a frown as Duncan followed both men and was put in the back. Although they had not cuffed him, this still felt like…an arrest. If Duncan was merely wanted for a statement, why had they not asked him to stop by? Why had they been holding him by the arms?

  Taking him in, publicly, amid all of his workers, was almost like a deliberate humiliation. Had Duncan acted rudely before, refusing to come to the station of his own accord because he was busy with some excavation details?

  Duncan could be obsessed with his own little things, paying no heed to another’s wishes. And if those wishes happened to be those of the local authorities, he might have ticked off a few people who had decided to show him who was in charge in this area.

  Beside her Simon Peartree said, ‘Forgive me for not knowing your name.’

  Alkmene smiled at him. ‘Alkmene Callender. I practically grew up with Duncan. My father was away a lot, and I was shipped off for the summer to the Woolsbury country estate. Alberley. Perhaps you know it?’

  He shook his head. ‘I've never been invited there.’ There was a slight stress on ‘invited’ and a tightness around his mouth.

  Alkmene hurried to say, ‘Well, anyway, I had a fabulous time there. Ever since Duncan became engrossed in the whole archaeology thing, I’ve seen so little of him; so when his father told me he was in Cornwall now, it seemed like the best of chances to catch up. Closer than Egypt, you know.’

  Simon Peartree laughed, erasing the tension in his handsome features. ‘Indeed it is. Well, I could show you around. I know all the ins and outs, have been here for weeks now, helping out. But apparently Duncan wants to do it himself as soon as he is back. So I suggest I put the workers to work first and then offer you some tea.’ He pointed to a picnic basket that was leaning against a half dug out wall. ‘It’s still warm, I hope.’

  He gestured to the men. ‘Spread out and resume working. There is nothing to see here any more.’

  He sounded almost like a constable clearing the scene after a crime.

  A victim with a skull bashed in by a hammer… That was not accidental. It might have been an act on impulse, during an argument, or even in self-defence. But it had not been an accident, and the police would not treat it as such. That could get tricky for Duncan.

  Alkmene turned to the driver who was still hovering a few feet away. His expression was blank, but Alkmene was certain he had followed everything with great interest. If he returned to London right away, he might start gossiping about it to the other servants. Lady Eleanor would have more than a headache if she found out.

  Alkmene said, ‘I think it is better if you stick around here for the night, Kramer. You can take a room at the same inn where the viscount booked my room. The Catch in Blackcastle. You have to drop my luggage there anyway. I’ll let you know in the morning what the situation is and whether you are still needed here or may return to London.’

  The driver seemed hesitant. ‘But my employer…’

  ‘I need you now. That the viscount must understand. I’ll clear it all up with him, should it be necessary. For the moment the family need not be troubled with the news of this unfortunate brush with the police. Now go.’ She waved him off with a careless gesture of her hand.

  Kramer snorted, but did as she had told him.

  She turned to Simon Peartree again. ‘So somebody died here?’

  ‘Why yes, two days ago.’ He shifted his weight uncomfortably, avoiding looking her straight in the eye.

  ‘A local man?’ Alkmene pressed.

  Peartree shook his head. ‘A friend of Duncan’s, from London, I gathered.’

  Alkmene’s jaw sagged. ‘Really? In that case I might know him. What was the victim’s name?’

  Peartree held her gaze as if he was eager to see her response when he spoke the words out loud. ‘Reiner Goodman.’

  Alkmene frowned. The name meant nothing to her. ‘And you are sure he was a friend of Duncan’s from London? From the peerage?’

  Peartree’s mouth twitched as if he was about to laugh. ‘Not all Duncan’s friends are from the peerage.’

  Alkmene bit back a remark about Duncan’s family being rather particular about whom they associated with. She had better be careful, as she had no idea who Peartree was himself and any careless remark about social standing might be hurtful to him.

  She said slowly, ‘But you are sure that Duncan did know the victim well? I mean, he wasn’t someone just dropping by to see the excavation, perhaps on invitation from Duncan’s tutor, Trevor Price?’

  Peartree shrugged. ‘That I don’t know for sure. All I do know is that Duncan was not happy to see Goodman when he appeared. They had a fierce argument the first night Goodman was here. I overheard them. I…am afraid I had to tell the police about that after the body was found.’

  He swallowed a moment. ‘It was rather awkward, you know. Duncan having said to the victim: “I will break your head for that,” and the next day him being dead and all, skull bashed in with a hammer… One of the tools Duncan uses frequently on site.’

  Alkmene stared at him in disbelief. ‘Duncan threatened the victim the day before he died? And then he was murdered in the same manner as referred to in this threat?’

  This was even worse than she had first assumed. The local police would consider this pretty conclusive evidence and might actually charge Duncan.

  Simon Peartree leaned over to her. He lowered his voice as if to make absolutely sure nobody could overhear this. ‘Duncan is calling this little trip down to the police station “coming along to make a statement”. But that is not what those officers said when they drove in here to ask for him. They said plainly that they had orders to arrest him for the murder of Reiner Goodman. Either Duncan finds himself a very good lawyer to get him off for the time being, or he won’t be back here tonight.’

  Peartree held her gaze as if he wanted to gauge her reaction when he continued. ‘In fact, he might not be back here at all.’

  Chapter Three

  If only she had known about the threat to the victim before she had let Duncan be taken away by the police.

  As usual he was making light of his situation and needed a friend to drag him out of the mire he had ambled into. Duncan
probably had nothing to do with the man’s death, but as the victim had been an acquaintance from London and Duncan had threatened him, everything pointed at Duncan as the perpetrator.

  He did need a good lawyer, like Peartree had just suggested. And if he was too pig-headed to ask for one, or afraid the family solicitors would get involved and his father would be livid, she had to arrange something for him. Jake would know what to do.

  She had to get to a phone right away to call him. If she was lucky, Jake would be at his hotel in Plymouth or at the yachting club. If not, she’d leave him a message to contact her as soon as possible.

  Alkmene glanced over her shoulder to see if her car was still there, but the indignant German driver had already turned the Buick around and was disappearing over the hill. She sighed in frustration. Turning to Peartree, she shot, ‘Do you have a car here?’

  He seemed surprised at the sudden question. ‘Yes, but it is at our lodgings. Duncan and I are staying at a cottage a mile down that way. You can’t see it from here because there are trees and shrubs around it. I have a car there. We walk out to the dig every morning though. Duncan used to say it’s good for the lungs.’

  He was using past tense to refer to Duncan as if he was already dead. Executed for murder.

  Alkmene shook her head inwardly. It would never come to that if it were up to her. There had to be some misunderstanding. Somebody else had killed the victim, and Duncan was only a suspect because of the unfortunate argument with the victim the night before his death. As Peartree had apparently been a witness to it, he could give her more information about it.

  She said briskly, ‘Then let’s walk to that cottage of yours and get your car. I want to get into the village as soon as possible to make a call.’ Her mind was racing. Not only could Jake tell her how to find a discreet lawyer to handle this unfortunate arrest, but he might also have some information for her about the victim. If Duncan had known him in London, he had to be somebody. And Jake had contacts to ferret out things about everybody who was somebody.

  Perhaps the victim had left London because he had been under pressure from someone – over work, debts, a family affair – and the perpetrator had followed him to kill him here and shift the blame to somebody else.

  Energized to dig into it right away, she gestured at Peartree, who had not moved. ‘What are we waiting for?’

  Peartree made an appeasing gesture in return and led the way down a small path only suitable to traverse on foot. They could barely walk side by side so Alkmene had to stay a step behind him. In the distance she heard gulls cry.

  Peartree called back at her, ‘I had no idea you were so close with Duncan you’d jump to his defence right away. When you arrived, you looked like one of his many casual girlfriends.’

  ‘He has casual girlfriends?’ Alkmene enquired.

  Peartree laughed. ‘Well, at least two ladies from London have popped up here during my stay to talk to Duncan. One he seemed mortified to see. He dragged her away from the cottage so I couldn't see her very well. I have no idea who she was or what she wanted of him. He was so tight-lipped about everything. And then there are the girls from the village. The innkeeper’s daughter in particular. Little Sarah.’

  There was a vicious tang to his tone as he spoke the name. ‘Always coming out with an apple pie or something. And Duncan going there to hire a horse for a beach ride. They also keep horses at the inn, you know. I never knew Duncan enjoyed horse riding. Must have been for Sarah’s sake.’

  Alkmene remembered the girl who had been brushing the horse outside the livery stable. She had been blonde and quite attractive, but very young to attract a man like Duncan. Perhaps the girl was infatuated with him, while Duncan barely noticed that she existed? Of course he had good looks, was strong and active, and his excavation work made him doubly interesting.

  Yes, she could very well imagine such an untried girl falling for him. If only Duncan had not encouraged her. She could not be the person he was here for, right?

  Peartree said, ‘I do hope I have not embarrassed you by mentioning the female interest in him. I mean, you’re not engaged to Duncan, are you? He would be just the type to have a sensible fiancée tucked away somewhere, you know, for when life has to get serious.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Alkmene said. ‘Just old friends, that’s all.’

  ‘But you immediately assume he is innocent of this man’s death. If you know Duncan well, you know he is a hothead who gets into arguments in the blink of an eye. What makes you so sure he can’t have killed a man in anger?’

  That was a question to ponder, but Alkmene would not let Peartree notice even a trace of doubt inside of her. ‘Duncan’s family is known to me; his sister is about to wed in the fall. His other sister has just had twins. Their mother would just have a fit if her son was accused of murder.’

  Peartree laughed softly. ‘The law won’t take that into account. I do know about character witnesses and all, but no matter how many pretty ladies Duncan can produce to say what a wonderful man he is, my testimony stands, about the argument the night before. He was livid when Goodman showed up out of the blue. He yelled all kinds of things at him. Duncan is tall and strong, and the tool was there for the taking. I think he could have committed the murder. Easily.’

  After a moment Peartree added, ‘The morning when the body was found Duncan was very agitated. Nervous, jumpy. I came up behind him and he started. Now when we were kids if we were jumpy my mother used to say it was our guilty conscience. Once the body was found and I recalled Duncan’s behaviour, it did seem very suspicious to me.’

  Alkmene swallowed hard. If Duncan was trying to hide an illicit love affair, this visit from a London friend might have been very unwelcome indeed. Who said that in a heated argument it couldn’t have come to blows between them?

  But she figured that in such a case Duncan would strike out with his bare hands, not pick up a weapon. It was only her gut feeling about Duncan’s character, based on her childhood memories of him. A shaky foundation for a defence, but you had to start somewhere. Jake would have to help her gather evidence that pointed to a different suspect.

  And she had to ask Duncan as soon as possible why he had been nervous on the morning the victim’s body had been found. Also what he had argued about with the victim the night before.

  She said to Peartree, ‘You were very quick to share your testimony of the argument with the police.’

  Peartree halted with a jerk so she almost bumped into him. ‘The constable asked us if we knew anything that might aid in the investigation. Do you think I should have kept my mouth shut? Is that your idea of loyalty to a friend?’

  His accusing tone irked Alkmene. As if she would cover up some guilty secret for Duncan’s sake. If she found evidence he had been involved, she would not keep it back.

  Not even if it…could save him from the gallows?

  For a moment she had the same sinking feeling she’d had during her first murder investigation. That maybe you would discover that the killer was someone you could actually like, understand, feel sorry for. Not someone you wanted to see accused and convicted. And what then?

  Here it was even more personal because Duncan’s family had actually sent her to save Duncan, from an unsuitable alliance. Now much more threatened his future, his life. If she became a part of this investigation and Duncan was convicted of murder and hanged, how could she ever face his parents again?

  Taking a deep breath to calm down, she said, ‘There is a big difference between concealing information and running to the police first thing to tell all you know. I’m hardly here on the scene and you’ve already shared with me that Duncan fought with the victim. You’ve assured me he has a temper, is strong, that you could just see him bashing somebody’s brains in. Almost like you want Duncan to be guilty.’

  Peartree flushed under his collar. As the colour flooded from his neck into his face, his eyes narrowed, and he seemed to suppress a heated retort. />
  A hot-headed man himself. Also capable of striking out when he felt attacked…

  Peartree turned on his heel and began to walk again. Because Alkmene had to stay behind him on the narrow path, she couldn’t see his expression well enough to read his emotions better.

  Peartree spoke, through gritted teeth. ‘Of course I don’t want that. I just…knew Duncan would have this callous attitude about it. Like nothing can touch him. He thinks he is above the law just because his father is a viscount. I thought the police should know the truth so they can judge him on the basis of evidence, not shy away from confrontation, just for the sake of his family name.’

  ‘I see.’

  Peartree’s irritation about Duncan’s privileged position and possible preferential treatment by the police reminded Alkmene of what Jake had told her about events in London. Cases where poor people were involved were easily dismissed, whereas crimes against the upper classes got more attention.

  Jake even claimed sometimes innocent people were condemned for a crime they had not committed because the police wanted to close the case as quickly as possible, show results for the wealthy and powerful families of victims. The injustice in that might drive Peartree to his current behaviour.

  Jake would probably approve of it.

  The path got wider, and Alkmene came to walk beside Peartree. In the distance the grass gave way to rock. Those had to be cliffs close to water. She could hear some splashing. All the sounds were so clear, carried along by the sharp wind.

  She said, ‘You have done the right thing not withholding anything based on someone’s last name. But you should realize that an argument and words spoken in anger don’t mean a whole lot. Duncan might be innocent.’

  Peartree glanced at her. ‘Who else would have had any reason to kill the victim? Nobody knew him. Just Duncan.’

  ‘Are you sure of that?’

  ‘Well, the locals surely didn’t know him. They had never worked on an excavation site before so it was all new to them. Duncan was new to them, I was, everybody who came here from London was.’

 

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